


Middle

by orphan_account



Series: Steps 'verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, M/M, Mates, Polyamory, Serious Injuries, Sharing Clothes, vaguely graphic ones though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1247026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wait- you do have a big dick?"</p><p>"Shut up, Stiles."</p><p>"Right, okay, shutting up."</p><p>OR</p><p>The five times Stiles, Derek and Deputy Parrish shared clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Middle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lonewolfed (nashirah)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nashirah/gifts).



> Holy heck. The response I got for the last fic was mind blowing. I can't believe it.
> 
> Any mistakes are mine, don't be afraid to point them out!
> 
> ETA: You guys are terrible human beings. I fixed all the typos. I can't believe after 2k of hits, no one bothered to mention the "mandages" moment. I hate (read: love) you guys.

1.  
You'd always known you kicked in your sleep. Your body was a fan of going spread eagle while you got a few Z's. Yes. 

Scott had grumbled about it when you were kids and shared beds during sleepovers. You'd simply made a point of kicking him in the shins while you were awake. 

It had never been a problem until now. 

Three months into your Super Secret Relationship with Beacon Hills least favored werewolf and most loved Deputy, you all finally managed to get a night together. 

Your Dad had a night shift at the Station, Derek was taking a break from getting a Masters in Brooding and Kyle had offered to 'babysit'. 

Your Dad would probably keel over if he knew exactly why Kyle had offered to 'babysit'.

Both Derek and Kyle had made it crystal clear they weren't letting you do anything X-rated. Sucks for them, you're a catch. A hot piece of ass. Definitely. 

Which is why you were all squished onto your bed. It was a very tight fit; you lying on Dereks' uncomfortable chest and Kyle as far away from the two of you as possible (which wasn't much). Kyle had said something about getting too hot during the night. 

You couldn't exactly blame him, Derek was like a furnace powered by the sun. Rediculously hot; both literally and metaphorically. 

Back to the matter at hand- you're energetic sleeping movements had landed your knee right into Dereks' crotch. How romantic. 

He'd snarled for a few minites before settling for a subvocal growl you could feel all through the bed. Kyle barely shifted. The man could sleep through a bombing, Derek had reliably told you. 

Channelling all the grump in the world through the power of his eyebrows, Derek rolled you off him straight to the floor. 

Nice to know nothing had really changed between you two now that you were dating. 

He got out of the bed too, pulling on the first pair of sweats he found. They fit tight. And really well. Wonderfully well. 

With a choked off sound, you realized he had pulled on Kyles' sweatpants. On purpose. 

That did something strange to you, something that felt an awful lot like your brain slowly melting. 

\---

2.

You expected to sleep in, your Dad wasn't supposed to be back until seven. Things did not go as planned. 

Derek was up from the moment you had kneed him. He spent the rest of the night looking scary and attractive in front of the TV. 

Kyle however, was out cold. And snoring very loudly. It would have been adorable had you not been so very tired. 

God, the man was like a chainsaw. 

Wonderful. 

You pulled yourself from the bed, having gotten back in it some time ago, and pulled on a t-shirt. A suspiciously large t-shirt. That proclaimed absolutely nothing on it. Not even a DC screenprint. 

This was not one of your t-shirts. It was Dereks'. 

Perfect. 

You did a good job of looking like a zombie as you took your meds, pissed and searched for coffee. 

This was not the romantic night you had planned. Sure, you guys had had dinner (cooked by yours truly) and watched Blazing Saddles (Kyle had a very adorable laugh, Derek just blew more air out of his nose than usual) before going to bed. 

But still. The whole sleeping part of going to bed had not gone well. 

You stared at your knee accusingly for a few minutes while you drank your coffee and watched Derek watch the TV. 

With a heaved sigh you rose, shuffled and fell into Dereks' lap. He was being frankly pissy for no reason, not like it was broken. He was a werewolf. He could heal. 

"How's Derek Junior?" 

All you got was an unimpressed huff. 

"Well, it's not like I was gonna say Little Derek. In case you didn't know: that thing is not little."

"It's my penis, Stiles, I would know."

"Wait- you do have a big dick?"

"Shut up, Stiles."

"Right, okay, shutting up."

Well, that went well. 

"You do know you're wearing Kyles' sweats, right?"

Oh wonderful. Back on the floor.

You keep Dereks' shirt. Derek jumped out the window around 4 AM, still wearing Kyles' sweatpants. You're pretty sure Kyle had taken your hoodie. 

Your Dad gives you an unimpressed look when he walks in to see you looking as tired as he does. You simply give him a sheepish wave and scramble back to your room, coffee clutched close to your chest.

3.

Being a werewolf is messy business but that is absolutely no excuse for squeezing into your favourite red hoodie and still managing to look hot. 

You say a sweet goodbye to the sturdiness of the seams.

Scott doesn't do this and he definitely doesn't borrow Alissons dresses. You had checked, just to find out if it was a werewolf thing (it wasn't).

Meaning Derek had absolutely no reason at all to take your hoodie. Absolutely none at all.

And yet he still did. Climbed through your window, drenched in rain and blood, stripped off his shirt (you really liked that shirt, it made his arms look womderful) and then shoved on your red hoodie. 

Kyle was downstairs, chatting with your Dad and acting like he wasn't in a polyamorous relationship with you and Beacon Hills very own Alpha. 

You're not sure if this is a supernatural emergency or just one where Derek was being stupid so you opt out of texting him. Derek simply flops on your bed, bleeding everywhere, and falls asleep. 

How inconsiderate. 

You take your sweet time ogling both your boyfriends ass in those jeans (they're obviously Kyles') and the way he looks so good in your clothing. Like you have a little part of him, a small claim. 

You fail to mention he's still wearing it in the morning.

4.

Climbing trees is dangerous business. 

Especially for those with atrocious hand-eye coordination. 

Thus how you fell from the highest branch to the unforgiving ground. Mother Nature was both a bitch and a sadist, you decided. 

Your leg was at a particularly odd angle and bleeding profusely. Your Dad was going to kill you. 

Derek was going to resurrect you only to rip out your throat. With his teeth. 

You hoped Kyle would be kinder. 

\---

Drugs were an amazing thing. Unless they were Adderall. In which case they were boring. 

These, however, you liked. Loved even. You wanted to marry these amazing drugs. These amazing, wonderful, beautifu-

"I'm just gonna grab a cup of coffee. Deputy Parrish will be here the whole time, okay kiddo? "

These drugs made magical things happen. 

"Hey- hey Kylie. Can I call you Kylie? Derek would probably hate me if I called you that though. He kinda hates me anyway-"

"Of course he doesn't, Stiles." Kyle (now unofficially dubbed Deputy Kylie) said, laying a hand on your arm comfortingly. 

"Totally does. With the whole grumpy werewolf stuff. All eyebrows, no bite."

"How much medication did they give you? Rambling about werewolves."

"...Was I not supposed to mention that?"

"What, that you think your boyfriend is a werewolf? Probably not, kid."

"Whoa- me and Derek are dating?" Holy. Shit. 

This is the best possible outcome of anything ever. Those drugs are definitely magic. 

You and Derek Hale are dating. You, Stiles Stilinski, are dating the hottest hunk in all of California. Scratch that, the universe. 

That man was a furnace. You remembered from the night Derek had literally kicked you from your bed, Kyle hadn't even woken up- wait. 

"Oh my god, I'm dating you!" You yelled, pointing a finger accusingly. 

Kyle was conked out, the lights had dimmed and the clock now read 11:12 PM. 

Had you fallen asleep? You still felt unimaginably tired. Your leg didn't hurt, though it did feel heavier than usual. 

Just before you fell asleep you spotted a pile of clothes on the end of your cot. It was a mix of an oversized shirt (obviously Dereks' going by the brooding, dark colour) and smaller jeans, closer to your size but not quite. 

You went home the next day wearing your boyfriends' clothes and it was the best feeling you had ever experienced. 

You fucking loved climbing trees and magical drugs. 

5.

[Incoming call]

"Stiles, pick the fuck up-"

"Dude, what the fuck, I was having dinner."

"It's Kyle. Stiles get here now."

"I can't leave! My Dad will want to know where I'm-"

"Please. Stiles I'm begging you. Get here."

"Okay- okay. Where are you? Is Kyle hurt?"

"Just off the main road, can't miss us. Bring bandages. Lots."

"Fuck."

[Call Disconnected]

You mutter something about hanging out with Scott and run upstairs in a daze. You're used to stuffing bandages into a duffel but that's usually for supernatural beings who just need a little bit of a jumpstart to get healing. 

Not for your very human, very killable boyfriend. Suddenly, you understood why Derek got all grumpy and protective when you did something stupid. 

Somehow, you both forgot Kyle was a police officer in the most supernaturally active town in the entire Goddamn world. Fuck. 

You race out the door, jump in your Jeep and pray it starts. It doesn't. 

Your heart clenches painfully and you stifle a scream. 

You leg it down the driveway, past Mrs. O'Donnels' house and her pissy cat, past the corner shop and straight onto the main road. 

Derek's right, you can't miss the trail of blood that runs for at least two-hundred yards. You feel like you're dying as you come to a stop at the sight of Derek doing chest compressions on a bloody Kyle. 

Your heart stutters, stops and starts again at Dereks' yell of "Give me the bandages!".

You begin moving again, tears clouding your vision. Dropping your duffel you pull out bandages and antiseptic and scissors and every other medical supply you own. 

Your mother had always said you were too emotional, too attached. You had never truly understood her until now; staring at the barely-alive body of your boyfriend. 

Boyfriend wasn't really the right word, not anymore. Not when you were sobbing and stitching and Derek was crying and barely keeping together. Not when you were trying to save one of the most important people in your life. 

Derek had once, just once, said you were pack. Mates. He'd looked embarrassed and shrugged it off like it was nothing. You had smiled and quietly coveted the words. 

Now was not the time for Kyle to die. Not when you were only just getting started, not when you still had so many insecurities, not when Derek was only just beginning to learn to smile again. 

Not. Now. 

An hour later you had him back at Dereks' loft, bleeding stopped for now. You had done it. Derek had done it. 

Both of you had saved your mate from an attack from an Omega. An Omega Derek had killed. 

You changed his clothes, put him in Dereks' bed, called in sick for him and then went home. 

\---

(Sat 2:46 PM)  
So Derek is a werewolf.  
KP

(Sat 2:47 PM)  
Yeah.  
SS

(Sat 2:49 PM)  
I expect an explanation the moment I am off these glorious drugs.  
KP

(Sat 2:51 PM)  
They are pretty glorious.  
SS

\---

Kyle went back to work, had a freak out, got a new uniform after he realized his old one was in tatters and everything went back to normal. 

You kept the uniform, as a reminder of what you all could have lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all the feedback, it's given me a lot to think about in terms of how to write the smut in the next fic. 
> 
> Again, you can always chat with me in the comments, or on tumblr/twitter as queerestalpha.


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